


The man you love

by orphan_account



Series: Of Alliances and other relationships [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22293232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Drake’s body is mighty and powerful – Hawkins’ is not.But sometimes, Hawkins feels lucky.
Relationships: Basil Hawkins/X Drake
Series: Of Alliances and other relationships [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597846
Kudos: 59





	The man you love

Hawkins is lucky, he thinks when he is 16 years old.

His body is not growing up how everyone had expected at first. With yet greater excitement of the future pirate, his chest is flat as a wooden board, nipples as little as reddish berries and the areolas are of a soft brown; his waist is as thin as an olive branch, and women would envy such an elegance if only his hips wouldn’t be so straight to made his figure look too manly for a girl looking for a groom.

His mother can’t hide the great displeasure: Hawkins body would never be suited for a woman’s ultimate goal – nature hasn’t gifted her precious daughter with useful breasts, and a baby wouldn’t even be able to suck those petite nipples of her; nature hasn’t gifted her precious daughter with wide, round hips, and she wouldn’t even be able to carry a single child through the nine months of gestation in her womb. Moreover, her precious daughter’s voice is not made for charming: her tone is calm and delicate, but it’s a tad masculine. But what she hates the most about her daughter is her stupid dream of hers to become a pirate, a captain, nonetheless. What a tragedy, the woman always thinks. One day, that infamous daughter leaves and when she reappears on the scene, she calls herself 'Basil Hawkins' and weird rumors say that said pirate is a man! A man? Her daughter? 

Aside from that useless gossip, Hawkins is lucky, though.

When he looks at his reflection in the mirror, he’s pleased: his body doesn’t remind of a female one at all, and workout helps a lot, indeed. Men and women say that he is a man of rare beauty, elegant to say the least; not even is long, golden hair is a bad match for his appearance, and some peasants of little, poor countries often compare him with an ancient divinity. Hawkins appreciates this comparison a lot.

**_“Are you sure you’re okay with me?”_ **

****

Most of the time, Hawkins thinks he is lucky, except when he is naked in front of someone else – occasionally, he would undress completely in front of Faust, when he needs help with medications; even in more rare occasions, he would show his entire body to a partner, and even then, he feels guilty. That is, Hawkins is lucky, except when he notices that he’s not. Once a month, his body is not manly at all, and he feels drained of all his energies as blood finds its way out of that cage made of flesh and blood. It’s like an open wound, which releases its grime every month, for four or five days at best – it’s almost like a scar, still bleeding, always there to remind him of the horrible truth. His body is different: his body it’s not like a man one at all.

Each month, Hawkins breaks.

**“When you look at me,**

**What do you see?”**

“You’re my prince,” Drake whispers against the base of his neck, tracing his sternum with his teeth, and then he’s taking Hawkins down with him, onto the mattress, allowing the shorter man to find a comfortable position between Drake’s legs. Normally, Hawkins wouldn’t appreciate staying there, as if Drake is waiting for him to do something more that he obviously can't – normally, Hawkins would finger him until he comes, scissoring his finger into the hot mess of Drake’s ass, slipping his fingertips against the prostate, repeatedly. Not today, though.

That evening, Drake came back with a gift. At that moment, said gift is tied around Hawkins waist, securely and a thick, long blue bulge is there, completely at Hawkins disposal, “you look more excited than me, blondie.” And of course, Drake has something to say on the matter, smirking while he's spreading his legs more to make room for his lover, but he can let him have the last word, just for today.

“Ready?” Hawkins asks, more to himself than to someone else – when Drake nods, the other man gulps, his heartbeat is racing and he tries to steady himself with one hand, finding comfort in sinking his fingers into Drake’s thigh, while the other hand is grabbing the anomaly hanging between is legs. They’re both excited and nervous, and Hawkins can’t stop to bite his inner cheek as the blue tip gets closer to Drake wet, entrance where lube is still dripping – a little pressure is enough for Drake to breath in, deeply, eager, but when Hawkins moves further, he relaxes and smiles at his lover who is checking him with a curious look on his face. Everything Drake has to do is to move his hips towards him, finding solace only when the whole thing is inside of him. Next time, he thinks, Hawkins will have all the time he needs to be gentle, but today he needs him to fuck him there. Now.

Hawkins is very lucky, he thinks, because his first time is not so bad, on the contrary: if sex with Drake is so freeing and allows him to listen to all his whines and “more” every time Hawkins slams in and out, he’d be very happy to have another round. Drake is perfect – his body, his voice the way he reacts when Hawkins touches him – everything is delightful, except when the blonde’s mind derails, once again. Except when his brain makes him hate his lover a lot.

**_“If it wasn’t for me, he’d have a better man at his side…”_ **

Hawkins breathes out, slowly and silently as if it would prevent his lover from waking up: he doesn’t like to think about those things on such a rare occasion, but there he is, with Drake snoring at his side, and the mind full of sadness and despair. Hawkins doesn’t know if it’s because that time of the month is approaching or it’s because they’re both naked, but he can’t help it.

Hawkins makes his nest under Drake’s harm, resting his head near the big X marking the other captain’s chest as he examines the bust worn out by thousand battles; Drake’s heartbeat it’s his favorite lullaby, and it’s funny how a simple sound as that can calm Hawkins to the point to lull him into sleep. When Drake is asleep, Hawkins likes allowing his finger to follow the path from the man’s pectorals to his abdomen, there where a trail of coppery hair leads his fingers to more perverse places. Usually, it’d be enough for Hawkins to calm down, but today, that little game is taking back unwanted thoughts.

Drake’s body is mighty and powerful – Hawkins’ is not. ~~Drake is a man – Hawkins is not.~~

“I can hear your thoughts in my sleep,” Hawkins freezes, lifting his gaze to look at his lover: Drake’s eyes are closed, probably because he is not awake enough yet. Before Hawkins can reply, the captain lets his hand wander onto the blonde’s skin, on his back, tracing his spine in all its length.

Hawkins exhales against the other, making him shiver, and starts tracing circles around one of Drake’s nipples, waiting for it to get hard enough, “Is my body okay?” The question finds its answer in Drake’s roar erupting from the man’s throat as his Adam apple trills in the process, but he doesn’t say anything more. Instead of useless chatting, Drake manhandles Hawkins to let him stay over him, embracing him tightly and entwining their legs together.

“I’m serious,” Hawkins protests, before biting at the hard nipple; then, his tongue slips over the top, swirling. Drake pretends to not care about the sudden threat, but his hard-on is saying otherwise, poking at the blonde’s belly – “Aren’t you able to give me a proper answer?” The man resumes, sucking the brownish bulge.

This time, Drake grunts, opens his eyes just enough to stare back at his lover and suddenly, he grabs Hawkins’ ass, firmly, groping both cheeks, “I’m not good at those kinds of things. But, because you’re such a spoiled prince,” he says, finally, and slaps one cheek, making Hawkins whimper and sucks in a deep breath, leaving the nipple alone. “Your ass is so perfect,” Drake purrs, the statement followed by another slap, “I’d eat it out as a dessert every day.”

“I bet you would, greedy as you are,” Hawkins’ voice is a mere whisper, and he whimpers whenever Drake’s hand hits him, palm flat onto his ass. Thus, he lays there, over the other captain, playing with both nipples at the same time with his fingers as he reaches for Drake’s lips – the other man slaps him more, alternating between gentle pinches, strong grasps and leaving red imprints on it.

Hawkins lingers, lips parted a millimeter away from Drake’s, and stares, eyes half-lidded, but the other man is not as patient and pushes him up to bite Hawkins’ bottom lip, “are you up for round two?” Drake asks, licking the spot where a red mark is forming - his partner stiffens, and Hawkins is looking back at him with a pout, “my answer first.

Drake quirks and eyebrow and his dick complaints, twitching against Hawkins' belly and opens his mouth as if to say something, but he stops, studying the blonde’s face, “the pills are doing their job,” he says, humming content and making the other man frown deepens. Drake’s hand leaves his ass alone and goes up to Hawkins’ chin to brush the tip with the thumb, “I didn’t notice it before because you're blond, but I’m pretty sure ---”

Confused, Hawkins’ hand joins Drake’s and his eyes sparkle like fireworks in the summer sky when he notices that a light stubble is growing there. He smiles and lets Drake all the time he needs to caress that part, “I’ll teach you how to shave.”

“Do, please,” Hawkins concedes, cupping Drake’s face to resume from where they left as they start to exchange sloppy kisses.

But Hawkins answer hangs there, between them and Drake can feel the younger man tensing as their tongues dance together, looking for dominance; he senses as the other captain tightness his grip on Drake’s shoulders, searching for the comfort he needs. And he can be damned if Drake is not there to oblige.

“Basil Hawkins,” Drake growls against the other’s lips, “Hawkins,” he repeats, shushing any attempts to speak of the other, between a kiss and another, “and that’s the name of the man I love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know --- you expected some good smut but --- eh, I have no idea how to write it properly.  
> Come and shout at me on Twitter!   
> @cam3ulia


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